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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636464">the truth, the whole truth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infiniginity/pseuds/Infiniginity'>Infiniginity</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Issues, Internalized Transphobia, Introspection, MTF character, Other, Trans Character, Transgender, lucifer's grade a parenting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:16:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infiniginity/pseuds/Infiniginity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>lucifer may have gotten his long sought after male child, but he did not have a son.</p><p> </p><p>a small drabble about a girl stuck in a boy's body.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the truth, the whole truth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She called herself Juniper, for its’ relation to the tree. She found it very poetic. She was a tree, drooping and depleted. Never watered. Not cherished.. She tried not to wilt in the spotlight of attention. She thirsted for it. Nobody would give her the sunlight she so craved, for she was born of night.</p><p>Juniper hated herself for as long as she remembered.</p><p>Age five, standing in front of a trifold mirror, on top of a raised platform. Three older ladies in long dresses bent down around her, measuring her and fixing her uniform. One of the ladies gripped Juniper's arm gently. It was then that child noticed the woman's fingers. Her eyes just drifted down to the woman's grasp by some unseen force. The maid's fingers were long and elegant, perfectly filed into neat ovals. Juniper jerked her head suddenly towards the mirror, to herself. Down to her fingers, twisted straight down by her legs. They were long and white, almost pale, but something about them made her furious. She wanted to rip the square little things off. Take a butter knife from supper and pry them off, watch the blood well up and drip down her bony ugly little fingers. Rip the fingers off joint by joint. Her father had done worse to sinners in his court.</p><p>"Highness, please move your head down. Look at your shoes."</p><p>Juniper blinked. Where had that thought come from? Those feelings were violent, and they scared her still, at that age.</p><p>She tilted her head downwards.</p><p>***</p><p>When Juniper trained with her swords, she sometimes pretended they were people and would make them do little dances. The smaller sword would be a girl and the bigger one would be a boy, and she'd hold them together like stick people and make them waltz to a tune only she could hear. Unless she hummed it, then the swords master would hear her and tell her to cut it out. Princes don't play around, and swords were not toys.</p><p>In her lessons, she would get so bored. The teacher would go on and on in his dull, old voice. Sometimes she would daydream about life outside of Hell, away from her teachers and lessons and all the creepy demons. She wondered what mortals did. Juniper had only seen a few, who had sold their souls to Father for whatever petty things their hearts desired. She felt bad they got tortured. She could hear their screams at night if she was quiet enough. Whatever. A deal's a deal, her father would say.</p><p>She wondered what regular warlocks and witches did. She wanted to meet some.</p><p>Sometimes she'd zone out and doodle little demons and hearts on her papers, and the teacher would see and scold her. It made her sad, but she wasn't allowed to cry.</p><p>Oftentimes, Juniper found herself alone. Between classes she had ample free time, most of which was spent sneaking around and getting into things she probably shouldn’t be. Or maybe getting gossip from the demons of Hell. Thar was fun.</p><p>On occasion her father would take her up on his throne to sit next to him and watch his infernal court. The proceedings were boring to Juniper, but she loved being near her father. She dreamed of him one day wanting to spend time with her. Playing with dolls and chasing her around the halls. Like fathers should do with their children. </p><p>But that never came. </p><p>He took her out when he needed her. The King of Hell would parade her in front of the denizens of Hell. He would show her off, smiling without joy. </p><p>“Look at my brillant son,” Lucifer would say. “May someday he follow in my footsteps.”</p><p>Juniper, who at this point was now eight or nine, would hide her cringe in the cheers of the crowd. Because it was then that she was beginning to understand whatt she didn’t like. She didn’t like herself. She hated her arms and her legs and her nose. Juniper hated the way she walked and dressed. It made her angry that she was the way she was. Her eyes burned with unshed tears as the crowd roared. She blinked furiously. </p><p>She wanted to kill someone, if only to take out her anger on something other than herself. Juniper, unable to do anything in the presence of company, grinned like a wolf. Teeth barred, she could hide.</p><p>***</p><p>Now thirteen, she had learned to hide secrets. Her own, mostly.</p><p>Once, Juniper had asked for a gown from the tailors. They laughed wickedly, and told her that she was a boy, and that boys do not wear gowns. When she was finished, she tugged self consciously at her shirt, pulling it down as far as she could. As the three women left, Juniper glanced longingly at them.</p><p>Even though they were lowly and subservient. Why did she want to be like those weak, weak women? She had everything she could dream of. Power. Status. Or so she thought then. </p><p>Juniper only knew that she would give it all up to be a real girl.</p><p>***</p><p>When the tailors arrived the night of the ball, they did not speak, as usual. There was a quiet hum in the air, almost like anticipation. Juniper could feel it as she slid into her uniform--a plain tunic embedded with gold and matching trousers-- avoiding her own gaze in the mirrors. The ladies combed her hair and fussed over her. But there was something unusual, Juniper could feel it in her bones.</p><p>The ladies finished, and began to disperse. Juniper stepped down from the platform without a glace to the final result. But as she began to prepare herself for the night’s festivities, one of the ladies grasped her arm. Her eyes shot towards the maid, a spell on her lips to curse the woman for daring to touch her. When her eyes met the woman’s though, something softened inside of her, and any malice that had unfurled inside of her vanished like the wind. </p><p>The woman made a gesture that said follow me. So Juniper did. Just behind the mirror, the woman pulled out a plain, medium-sized gift box, and delicately placed it in the girl’s arms.</p><p>“For later,” she whispered in an aging voice. Then she was gone. She hid the box in the bottom of her wardrobe. Only seconds later she was summoned.</p><p>Juniper did not open the box until after the ball, which was overall boring. Some people were sacrificed and there were a few Hail Satan’s. That’s just how it is.</p><p>Now she sat in the torchlight in her rooms, alone at last. She pulled the box from her wardrobe. With trembling fingers, she lifted the lid of the gift box.</p><p>Juniper gasped. The most beautiful gown lay folded in the box. A light lilac silk embedded with golden swirls. She stood and held it to her body. It fell in smooth waves around her ankles. In awe, she ran her finger down the smooth silk. Her eyes felt warn. A sense of victory welled in her chest. Juniper dabbed at the corners of her eyes, silently hoping the tears wouldn’t fall. </p><p>Her eyes darted around the room. Juniper was in her private rooms, but she couldn’t help the sense of being watched. Laying the gown on the bed, she cast a spell on the door, then crossed the room to check that it was locked. Secure in the fact that it was, indeed, locked, she sprinted back to the bed.<br/>
The fabric under her fingers felt surreal. Was this real life? Was it a trick? She hoped not. She would cry if the curtain was drawn up and it was revealed so. </p><p>Juniper slid out of her uniform. She tossed the individual articles of clothing aside without care. Her breath became harder as she stood above the gown. It was so beautiful. It was hers.</p><p>In front of the mirror, she stared at the reflection. This child in the mirror was nor the Prince of Hell. Not Lucifer’s son. The person in the mirror was not a boy at all. This was a girl in the mirror. Her old name would not do for this girl. Her old name was a boy’s name. </p><p>This was Juniper.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have a long form of this brewing in my head, but I couldn't really get it out. So this is that result. If this does well and there's a desire for Juniper's whole story, then I'll write it. That might take a while.</p><p>Also this was written really quickly and not edited at all. I just wanted it out, y'know? I had an idea and just went with it and this is that chaotic result. </p><p>Title taken from Virginia Woolf's "Orlando". Highly recommend.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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